


The World We Know

by Zphal



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2013-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-16 13:23:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/862505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zphal/pseuds/Zphal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exile forces Tony and Bruce across the harsh Tibetan countryside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The World We Know

**Author's Note:**

> One-shot, fic request made by http://lapatatamagica.tumblr.com.

The glow of approaching dawn had been gradually creeping its way through the sky as they plodded their way across the Tibetan terrain, coloring the inhospitable landscape in a kind of blue-gold tint. However it wasn’t until the first sliver of the sun crested the plateau that the sprawl of Shigatse appeared on the horizon in front of them. Bruce sidled over to give the weary man walking beside him a gentle elbow, directing his attention to the sight. Slowly Tony lifted his eyes from where they had been fixed steadfastly upon the ground, stopping to blink with a trance-like disbelief, his chapped lips parted in a heavy pant.

“Almost there...” Bruce offered a smile and the water skin.

Tony took it and cradled the pliable, kidney-shaped bag over his head as he tilted it back, letting the liquid drain into his mouth at its own pace. It wasn’t that it was hot-- it was dry. Cold and barren. Rain wouldn’t come to this area until monsoon season, and when it did, it would flood. When the engineer had had enough, he handed the water skin back and wrapped the woolen poncho tighter around his body with a shudder, merely giving a nod to the words. Bruce reached out to rub his back consolingly as they started forward once more.

The two of them had been traveling on foot for nearly ten hours, sticking loosely to the roadside. Between the climate and elevation, exhaustion was a very real and potential and ever-present threat. But his friend’s stamina had thus far endured. Bruce let the other man lean some of his weight against him, drawing upon the beast inside him to keep his own stride steady and vision focused on the city in the distance.

A half-mile later he diverted them down an ox-cart path, following his nose through the hard-scrabble crops and pastures until he spotted the familiar chimney stack pluming wispy smoke into the still-dark western sky. He rubbed his friend’s shoulder again, rousing him from his near sleep-walking state. Tony glanced about blearily as they made their way towards the home built onto the rough. Despite the unfamiliar landscape, Bruce seemed to know where he was headed. “Where...” Tony’s eyebrows crinkled, “where are we?”

They stepped up to the porch; Bruce urged his partner to prop himself against one of the wooden supports. “Somewhere we can stay for a couple days, until we get our feet back under us,” he replied. “Wait here just a moment.”

Tony gave a tiny nod. He’d recognized by now he wasn’t much use when it came to communication and negotiation in these parts. He’d been picking up bits and pieces of the Tibeto-Burman language... common words and phrases, but nowhere near enough to cultivate a dialogue. Tony shifted on his aching feet with a groan, scanning his eyes out across the field, coming to rest on the shaggy black yak standing only a few feet away.

Its fur coat may have been covering its eyes, but Tony still got the uncanny feeling it was staring at him. “What’re you looking at?” he asked the creature snidely. It made a harrumphing noise and tossed its head, unkempt fur ruffling in all directions. Tony lifted a hand up to sift it through his own messy locks self-consciously. “Yeah well, you’re not much to look at either,” he commented with a snort.

Bruce came back out to the porch. “Tony... were you talking to that yak?” he asked somewhat warily.

Tony shrugged. “He started it.” The animal brayed again and Bruce just shook his head, leading his friend inside the domicile.

It _was_ warmer inside. A nice fire was crackling away; a Tibetan woman was stooped on the hearth, stirring the coals that had broken off from the logs to release their heat. She chattered something and Bruce nodded, responding curtly. Tony let his eyes shut briefly to soak in the coziness of the abode, shawl loosening around his shoulders. Bruce ushered him through the living space into one of the empty back rooms. It had a bed, an honest to goodness _bed_ with a frame and everything, elevated up from the floor. The mattress was obviously stuffed with straw, but who gave a good God damn.

Both of them began unloading. Tony unwrapped the wool blanket from his body and draped it over the foot of the bed before dropping the briefcase he’d had secured to his back to the floor unceremoniously. Mark V, version 2.0. Not fully functional. Like, at all. If the damn repulsors had _worked_ instead of spluttering out, the two of them might’ve avoided the little fiasco that had forced Bruce to turn green and forced them both to retreat to an even less populous region. He gave the case as much of a kick as he could muster, which turned out to not be much, but did serve to remind him how swollen and tender his feet were. He collapsed backward onto the bed.

A hand caressed his cheek, coaxing Tony’s eyes back open. He met Bruce’s gaze. “How are you doing?” the man inquired gently.

“Mmghh...” Tony responded inarticulately, “Exhausted. But alive,” he added cheekily. “I dunno how you used to do this by yourself, doc.”

Bruce’s eyes lowered momentarily. It hadn’t been easy; it had never been easy, even once he’d accustomed to the concept of nomadic living and pure subsistence. The amount of psychological difference there was having Tony beside him, in his own resolve and determination if nothing else, was staggering. He felt the pulse of his will to live still thudding slow and consistent in his veins, but now also he felt Tony’s-- a synchronicity that could not be paralleled. “Me either...” he murmured back, pressing a chaste kiss to his partner’s forehead. They smiled at one another before Bruce pulled back and began laying their only fresh change of clothes out on the bed. “There’s running water, if you’d like to shower off. Maybe not what you’re used to, but,” he shrugged in lieu of finishing the sentence.

“Are you kidding?” Tony sat up to stare at him with eyes wide as dinner plates, “I honestly couldn’t give a _shit_ about quality right now. A shower is a goddamn shower. Even _if_ I had to tramp half-way across the globe for it. Lead the way.”

Bruce chuckled softly at the sentiment and grabbed their sparse toiletries-- a bar of soap in a plastic zip-bag and a washcloth, both of which had served their most basic hygiene needs in times past the last couple of weeks, as well as a razor and a small pocket mirror. He motioned Tony along to the washroom, where a spigot stuck out from the wall; there was also a drain in the center of the floor. There wasn’t much more to it than that. It constituted ‘plumbing’, but barely. Bruce closed the door behind them and tasked himself to undressing; Tony followed suit, folding their things one by one onto the shelf.

Tony’s eyes drew a line down the other man’s bare back before his tongue flicked out to wet his lips. “You know, we haven’t had too much of a chance to be intimate since we left New York...” he drew out. It was an observation, devoid of the unspoken pain of that day they’d been cast into exile, and instead wistful for another kind of human comfort that had seemingly been lost in the fray as well.

The physicist turned the faucet before glancing at him. “I thought you said you were exhausted.”

“To be fair, that was before you got undressed,” Tony grinned, despite the effort it took. Pressure gradually built in the pipes behind the wall until water was able to spray torpidly out the shoddy showerhead. Bruce stepped under and began to wet his hair. Tony joined his partner beneath it, wincing immediately at the sting of the frigid water on his back. It had to be pumping in from the well built into the ground outside. It took him a moment to adjust to the shock.

Bruce’s features twisted into a smirk. “Still interested?”

Tony gave a dismissive snort. He pressed himself flush to the other man, wrapping his arms around him, conserving their body heat. “Please. I thought you were a genius.”

Bruce smiled distantly, lathering the soap bar between his palms. “Let’s get clean first. Then we’ll talk.”

Tony relented and took a step back so Bruce could soap his hair. He grabbed the pocket mirror and opened it, angling it to inspect his appearance. Tony made a face. Ugh, he looked god-awful. At this point his Van Dyke was almost completely obscured by the growth of the rest of his facial hair. It was a look that worked a whole lot better on Bruce and not at all on him. Still grimacing, he motioned at his friend for the soap so he could spread a thick lather over his jaw and set to work with the razor.

When he’d fussed to what he felt was the appropriate degree, Tony snapped the mirror shut and flourished the razor, turning to face his partner. “What do you think?” he smirked.

Bruce finished rinsing and opened his eyes to look. He hummed thoughtfully at the sight, reaching out to brush the pad of his thumb over both Tony’s now-bare chin and upper lip. He hadn’t thought the former icon had it in him to remove what was his ‘signature’, but now that he had, Bruce could appreciate the little features that had formerly been hidden beneath dark salt-and-pepper whiskers. He looked good clean-shaven, maybe even a little more ‘respectable’ than his usual self. “It’s good, I like it,” he responded, and as the engineer’s lips curled coquettishly, Bruce closed the distance, pressing their mouths together.

Tony practically melted into the affection, eyes fluttering shut with a soft warble in the back of his throat. He tilted his head as the other scientist’s tongue ventured out to find his own, pawing Bruce’s back in subtle (or not-so-subtle) encouragement. He got the result he wanted though; the big guy kissed him a little more aggressively and Tony let out a moan, leaning back into the wall to trail his foot up his partner’s leg. Bruce pulled back warily. “Come on, doc...” Tony purred, undetered.

“You were barely standing when we got here,” he said.

“True. But then again, _I_ don’t really have to...” Tony reasoned with another weak but playful smirk. He knew the other man wanted this. He could see it in his eyes, _feel it_ through the tension in his muscles beneath the skin. Just the way he’d wanted it back in the Tower, where the two of them would slide into the luxurious caress of the bubble jets built into his spacious whirlpool tub, frothed high with mountains of suds from expensive bath soaps. They’d made some of the most slow and relaxed love in that tub... his spine tingled with the memory. It had been pretentious, Tony had known that at the time, but he wanted Bruce to experience those finer things that came with an over-abundance of wealth. And Tony had been only too happy to share.

Now they were standing under a barely running spigot in a third-world country, shivering, cold, without as much as a towel between them to dry off, and lucky to have this much. But it didn’t cause him any regrettable unhappiness. Because if you looked at it, _really_ looked at it, under a romantic lens, filtering out the how and why, now Bruce was getting to show him _his_ world.

Bruce’s lips descended back down on his for another fervent interchange. When he pulled back the second time, he was lathering the soap across his hands again, and he slipped his hand past the engineer’s balls to the juncture of his legs.

Tony muffled a noise by biting his top teeth into his lower lip. A finger worked its way into him, followed by a second. He gasped as they briefly curled against his prostate and fought to stay on his feet.

The physicist caught the wobble, steadying him with his other hand. “Careful. What did I say?”

“Mm... that you better get on with it?” Tony suggested as though he were making a guess. It earned him a spreading of the two fingers inside him, causing him to shudder again and push back against them wantingly.

“Alright...” Bruce rumbled, “But you better hang on.”

Tony exhaled as the digits were removed, and once the other man had sufficiently slicked his erection with the soap bar, he widened his stance and looped his arms around Bruce’s neck. The big guy’s hands splayed across his hipbones, traveling down to help guide his length partially inside before cupping the backs of his thighs firmly. With a heft, Bruce picked him up off his feet, burying the remainder of his cock as their hips became flush.

Tony released a fluid moan, head lolling back against the wall where his unsupported weight was leaned. Bruce was still a moment, waiting for his partner to breathe his way through the adjustment. Tony signaled with a little rock of his pelvis and Bruce began to move... slowly at first, but gaining momentum. The engineer clung a little tighter with one arm as he reached down with the other to stroke himself in time to his partner’s thrusts. It had been much too long since they’d done this, he thought as he reveled in it all-- the pressure of the other man inside him, the blush of his skin, the heat of the contact, the scent of his body. Bruce groaned, a sound that made the corners of Tony’s mouth prick upward because he knew it was unspoken agreement.

Their maws reconnected, passion building. Tony felt his body clenching; he squeezed Bruce’s flanks with his thighs to get the full-effect of those final ruts before he came with a couple of vocal “Ah...!”s. The big guy wasn’t far behind, releasing teeth-grit and fingers digging into the flesh of his ass, irises not quite green but not quite brown, as was typical in the concluding moments of intercourse. Bruce’s body slackened in relief, though not enough to lose his grip as he let his spent member slide free. Tony hummed pleasedly, sifting his fingers through the damp curls on his partner’s scalp as he was cautiously lowered to his feet. “Mm, babe... I think we _both_ needed that.”

Bruce chuckled. “I guess you were right.” He kissed him again and Tony sighed. He wanted to move even less now, but he cleaned up and a few minutes later they both exited the washroom. By the time they were dressed, a light knock sounded on their door and Bruce moved to attend to it. Tony watched lazily from the bed, still caught in the faint afterglow of coitus. It was a Tibetan girl this time, likely the woman’s daughter-- she couldn’t have been much more than eight years old. She spoke a few polite sentences, and Bruce spoke back with obvious appreciation-- that much was conveyed by tone of voice alone, language barrier aside. He handed the girl their clothes from the road, placing a hand on top of her head in tender gesture; she smiled and left.

Bruce turned back to Tony. “She says there’s breakfast on the pot over the fire.”

The engineer felt the tastebuds on his tongue prickle, followed shortly by salivation. “Shower sex, laundry service _and_ hot food? Bruce, I think I’m getting spoiled, buddy.”

The physicist chuckled. “C’mon.”

The two of them padded out to the living room. The house’s matron attending the pot motioned them to take a seat on the pillows on the floor, making it clear that under no uncertain terms was she going to allow her guests to serve themselves. Bruce kneeled. Tony crossed his legs Indian-style on the soft cushion and shortly found a cup being pressed into hands. “Po cha,” she nodded and smiled and the engineer offered a confused but Stark-ian grin. She bestowed Bruce with a cup as well, giving him a few extra kind words before turning to grab a ladle and bowls from the larder.

Tony eyed the dark colored substance a moment before tipping it back. It was salty and viscous and somewhat rancid tasting, yet he found himself eagerly going back for more of the hot liquid until he had drained the small porcelain vessel. “What is this?” he inquired, lapping the extra off his top lip.

“Yak butter tea,” Bruce elucidated, which didn’t sound good at all. He sipped his own, “It has a high caloric content, it will revive your energy.”

A little mystical sounding, but scientifically accurate. Tony gave a surprised “Oh!” as the woman tipped the spout of her teapot into his cup to pour it full again. She spoke to him again and he gave an awkward, “Uh...” looking over to his partner.

Bruce translated. “She says ‘drink more, it will help your lips’.”

Tony gave a bashful chuckle, wetting them with his tongue. They were pretty cracked from the dry climate. He did as he was told. A bowl of soup was given to him next, steam rising from the surface-- ‘tsam-thuk’ she called it-- and bread, ‘balep’. She kept his drink cup topped off the entire meal and before long his and Bruce’s tummies were full, leaving them very content. After a strenuous few days on the road with only basic victuals, a full hot meal was pretty much incredible. And the hospitality they were being shown was equally so.

The Tibetan woman seemed very pleased with the satisfaction of her guests, exchanging dialogue once more. Bruce listened and repeated as she went along. “She says we are welcome to stay until her husband and sons return. They are exchanging goods in Lhasa, and will likely not be back for the next few days, so we can make ourselves at home. And that if she can provide anything else to make us more comfortable, she will.”

Tony felt a wide, genuine smile stretching his features. “What’s the word for ‘thanks’?” he asked his partner. “I want to say thank you.”

“Xièyì,” Bruce shared.

Tony locked eyes with the matron of the house. “Xièyì,” he pronounced, pouring all his gratitude into the word. Her eyes lit up with delight and she began to respond, glancing over at Bruce halfway through before concluding.

“What did she say now?” the engineer queried curiously.

Bruce hesitated, looking down into his lap. “She... she said it’s nothing. That she’s happy to offer us shelter.”

Both of Tony’s eyebrows drew down suspiciously. He knew Bruce had led them to this home in preference to others, and ever since they had gotten here, he and the matron had exchanged more words than simple strangers. Sensing some confusion, the woman sought to elucidate. She beckoned her daughter, who came over to her side, pushing her dark straight hair out of her small flat face. The mother motioned her hand out in a large ball shape over her stomach, then gestured to the physicist before smiling and wrapping an arm around her daughter. The pantomime made it click. “You delivered her...” Tony realized, looking over at Bruce.

The big guy cleared his throat. “She came early, unexpected. The nearest doctor was a day’s journey.” He paused. “I was... in the area. It wasn’t an easy birth... but they were both strong; we made it through.”

Tony found himself smiling, not sure why his partner would be shy and try to hide the event. Well, other than his nonsensical tendency for humility. The engineer looked back to both women. “Tell her her daughter is beautiful, and that I’ll never forget her kindness in hopes of one day repaying it.”

Bruce nodded and relayed the message. The matron smiled again and a short while later she and her daughter excused themselves from their company to resume their domestic chores.

Tony yawned and stretched his arms above his head. Sleep was definitely the next step in the equation. He and Bruce stood and went back to the bedroom, wordlessly stretching themselves out across the straw mattress. Ugh, so much better than the cold, hard ground. Tony wriggled a little to get comfortable, wrapping his arms around his partner to draw him close to his chest; Bruce didn’t resist, settling his head in the crook of his neck. Tony sifted his fingers through the curly hair admiringly. “You’re a real hero, you know that?” he murmured, kissing the top of the other man’s head. “Even before you came to New York you were a hero.”

“It’s a matter of perspective,” Bruce reasoned.

“It’s unfalsifiable,” Tony corrected. “You’re a hero, Bruce, accept it already.”

The man laughed and hugged him closer. Neither of them said anything after that, wrapped up in one another; their breathing became gradually slower and before long the clutch of unconsciousness overtook them both.


End file.
